It's A Disaster When I'm Plastered In My Chair
by Sunshinecackle
Summary: Sequel to I'm So Enamoured When I'm Hammered And You're There. Rick can't stay sober and Morty can't stay still. A discussion is looming on the horizon and both of them aren't sure what to say.


**Title:** It's A Disaster When I'm Plastered In My Chair  
 **Author:** Donnie  
 **Fandom:** Rick And Morty  
 **Setting:** The Smith House  
 **Pairing:** Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith  
 **Characters:** Rick Sanchez, Morty Smith, Beth Smith  
 **Genre:** Romance/Drama  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Chapters:** 1/1  
 **Word Count:** 1587  
 **Type of Work:** One-Shot, Sequel To I'm So Enamoured When I'm Hammered And You're There  
 **Status:** Complete  
 **Warnings:** Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Alcoholism, Alcohol Use, Dubcon, Morty wants it but is scared, Rick doesn't want to talk about feelings, Pining, C137cest, Incest, Grandfather/Grandson Incest  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
 **Summary:** Rick can't stay sober and Morty can't stay still. A discussion is looming on the horizon and both of them aren't sure what to say.

 **AN:** And the (maybe?) long-awaited sequel to I'm So Enamoured When I'm Hammered And You're There is here! There may or may not be another fic one or two after this one, who knows. Just connected one-shots, but they're a lot of fun to write. ^^ I hope you guys like this one, too!

Also, you guys might notice a change in my name. I've decided to start going by Donnie, and male pronouns, see how that feels. Donovan would be the full name, Donnie is just a nickname.

 **It's A Disaster When I'm Plastered In My Chair**

Not being drunk was possibly harder when he actually had planned to do it ahead of time. If it was an unplanned stint of sobriety, he could at least blame himself for drinking too much of his stash away and thinking he'd push getting more off one more day. This… Was almost torture. He had six bottles stashed in his cabinet, his hip flask, and too many bottles to count hidden around (and under) the garage, all calling his name.

Maybe he just wanted to drink away this hangover, though. He rolled his tongue around his mouth for the umpteenth time as he waited impatiently for Morty to get back from the bathroom, even he balked at the flavor glued to it. Did he taste that bad to Morty the other day? No wonder why the kid was skittish and flighty every time he moved. Some part of him was starting to think that this was a bad idea, but it was that little voice in the back of his mind that he rarely listened to.

Still, Rick knew there were several layers of 'wrong' that he was sitting on like a dragon hoarding gold.

Mortys couldn't defeat Ricks, it was a universal truth. If he really, really wanted to, he could always take what he wanted and then erase Morty's mind. He knew he'd have to live with what he'd done, but he'd done so _many_ wrong things that that would be almost nothing to him. But this was his _Morty_. Anyone else, he could have lived with poisoning. He knew he was just as much a death sentence as the alcohol he never stopped drinking. But Morty was… Different. Special. There were things he felt for this kid that a thousand years apart wouldn't stop.

If he hadn't wanted to start drinking, this was the worst line of thought for that. Before he even knew what he was doing, the flask was in his hands, his fingers gently unscrewing the lid. It wasn't until he tasted the bitter liquid that he realized he was drinking again. No matter what he said, he couldn't quite draw his hand back, couldn't stop the drink going down his throat. So much for being sober when trying to woo his grandson.

Everything else was going so well. Jerry had been taken out for ice cream or something by Doofus Rick, Beth was working overnight at the horse hospital, Summer was at a friend's house or something… They were alone. And he was already sabotaging himself. High-functioning or not, he was an alcoholic, and, apparently, couldn't even last a full hour into spending time with the one person he almost wanted to stop for. Almost. The screaming voice in his head told him that nobody could get him to be sober, sober thoughts were boring, sober thoughts were unethical in the mind of a big-time criminal. Sober thoughts weren't going to get him _laid_ , and that thought haunted him into another pull from his flask. Shit.

"Rick, I-" Morty paused when he caught the other mid-chug. In the entire time they'd been hanging out together, he'd never really seen Rick _chug_ from his flask. Something must have come up. Still, he bit at his lip before continuing, "I, uh, I was thinking m-maybe we could watch some TV?"

That was _perfect_. Rick could totally get away with manhandling Morty all he wanted on the couch, and if they put something on that maybe made Morty wiggle or jerk about, he'd have a better excuse to pin him down.

"Ye-yeah, Morty." He responded shortly, rising from his seat in the garage and dusting his hands off on his pants. Grease smeared on one side but he hardly cared, more focused on forcing himself to put his flask away. With the cap on and the metal warming in his coat pocket again, he nodded, following the teen back into the house. "What do you w-want- What do- What do you want to watch, M-Morty?"

"I dunno, R-Rick, I was thinking like, uh… M-Maybe Ball Fondlers or something?" All at once, Rick wished he hadn't gotten Morty into a show with such a suggestive name.

"Y-Yeah, Morty, sure. Sure, M-Morty." Rick was saying, hearing his voice but not recognizing his lips moving, and not feeling the words rolling off his tongue. When they got to the couch, he laid out on it, back pressed into one armrest and his legs spread. Morty found himself pressed against his chest, lying against the taller male and really making his night. The television flickered on and Rick brandished the remote, "You remember the channel?"

"I think we DVRed some..." Morty muttered, maybe a little distracted, "But I think it's up in the uh… The two hundred thousands?" Honestly, he would have been able to rattle it off at any point, but feeling Rick breathing beneath him, the steady beat of his heart, was making him feel a little crazy. He shouldn't be so calm about being held like this, especially when Rick's legs wrap around his waist and work their way between his legs, pinning him to the spot. That whole foot thing he had was really making it difficult to want to tell his grandfather off. Wiggling a little, he gulped slightly, hearing the usual sipping from the flash just behind him.

"M-M-M-OURGH-T-ty, Morty, we should- We should watch something cool, right M-Morty?" Science, what was he going to say next? This sounded like some college frat boy too far gone to know he was an idiot. "I g-got something… Got something in mind, M-Morty."

"Y-Y-Yeah?" The ripe scent of an alcohol so strong it couldn't have been from Earth wafted over his shoulder and he was positive he felt the elder's tongue swipe against his ear. "Wh-What's that, R-R-R-Rick?" There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and he didn't know what to do with it. Rick's hands slipped to his chest, his long, thin fingers petting at Morty's ribs.

"Mm, you'll s-see, M-M-Morty." He whispered, sucking lightly at the lobe of Morty's ear, making the teen squeak. The channels flipped a few times but Morty was certain he couldn't see anything, hear anything other than Rick's labored breathing in his ear. Morty felt the rise in his own jeans, found his lip between his teeth again as he bit down on a soft sigh of pleasure. Rick was pushing all the right buttons to make his blood boil, and he knew exactly where they both wanted this to go.

After a moment, some game show or another played on the screen, something mundane and simple minded that would have kept Jerry's attention, easy. Rick's hands were wandering over Morty's chest and stomach, digging in at his collarbone and smoothing his shirt flat over his diaphragm. His breath was still heavy, right in Morty's ear, but the poor kid was having a hard time focusing on anything but his own frantic heartbeat. Behind him, he could feel the elder's prick pressing to his back, twitching and half-hard already, and he didn't know whether he should stay or run for the hills.

"R-Rick-" He began, panic evident in his voice, "I- I, uh, I… I sh-should probably do some ho-ho-homework, and-"

"You kn-know how I-I-I-I feel a-about homework a-a-an-and sc-achool, Mo-Morty." Rick's breath was hot and rancid against his skin, and Morty was certain that he'd reek of alcohol and whatever he'd been eating before for the rest of his life. "It-it's no place fo-fo-for a smart kid lik-like you." He muttered, kissing his grandson's ear and nibbling at it.

"I- I kn-kn-know, Rick, I j-j-ju-just-!" A yelp left the boy as Rick bit into his neck, and Morty was up so fast both of them were dizzy from the sensation of cool air settling on bodies way too warm. "I- I go-go-gotta go." With that, Morty scrambled out of the room, up the stairs, and slammed his door shut. Sinking down against the wood, he breathed out a harsh sigh, eyelids heavy. What was even happening? Rick hadn't even acted like he remembered that day, not for the last two weeks. Next thing he knew, he was being chewed on! This was so fucked up!

So was the fact that he wasn't just panting heavily from his mad dash to his room. He knew his feelings for Rick, whatever they were, weren't platonic anymore. They weren't easy, either; Rick could pull into anything, could make something out of nothing, could get his blood boiling just from the way he touched something. Half of him wanted to believe it was just hormones, but a bigger part of him seemed to have already figured it out. And it scared him.

His mother wouldn't allow it. If she found out, even her desperate love for Rick wouldn't be able to save them.

It was better to just leave it be, let it die.

But Rick wasn't one to usually just let something go. After the initial shock of Morty's escape had settled and he was left, blinking, cold and drunk, on the couch, he found his way to his feet. UP the stairs a little more crooked than he would have liked, he belched loud and proud before clapping a hand on the door. Morty jumped and squealed, and Rick sucked in a deep breath. Much as he hated it, they might have to talk about this.

AN:

Don't worry, guys. There will be at least two more parts to this one, sequels to sequels. I plan on finishing it off at four, and we'll see where it goes from there. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed!


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